


Tired

by forthegloryofdragons



Category: Tales of Arcadia (Cartoons)
Genre: Angst, Gen, Jim is tired, Post-Canon, Wizards Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-07
Updated: 2020-09-07
Packaged: 2021-03-06 16:55:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 379
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26332267
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/forthegloryofdragons/pseuds/forthegloryofdragons
Summary: His exhaustion dragged him down, as if his body were still made of stone.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 39





	Tired

**Author's Note:**

> I think we all know by now I love making our poor boy suffer in his mind. 
> 
> This was a little exercise I did to try and get my writing back to what it used to be. It's short, but I feel like it gets the point across. Poor Jim is just Tired.

Rarely did he sleep through the night anymore. He was tired. His exhaustion dragged him down, as if his body were still made of stone. Multiple times, he had to check that he wasn’t dreaming. The soreness in his limbs and aching in his muscles should have been enough to assure him that this was real. 

He was drained, eyelids heavy and head pounding to the beat of his pulse, a sharp reminder that yes, he was alive, and he was tired, and he just could not relax enough to drift off into any form of rest, no matter how much he wanted to.

He was tired of being tired. Tired of his racing mind. Tired of the visions that haunted him every time he closed his eyes. Which ones were real and which ones were his overactive imagination, he may never know. He just wanted it to  _ stop _ . 

If he had ever thought the extent of the shadows beneath his eyes was impressive, he was sadly mistaken. They’d taken up permanent residence, making his once bright innocent blues appear dull and grey. Ghostly even. His pale complexion did not help. He looked like a corpse, a lifeless shell of the boy who had so eagerly taken up the responsibility of keeping the world safe. 

He was not that boy anymore. The scar running across his eyebrow to the bridge of his nose and on his cheek had healed nicely, his mom said, though she would never know how. He hadn’t even been aware of how he’d gotten it, and if he were being honest with himself, he didn’t really  _ want _ to know at all. It would just be another thing to add to the growing list of nightmares he had to deal with, and he was  _ tired.  _

He felt... weak. 

Vulnerable. 

_ Useless _ . 

He bit down on his lip, bringing his attention back to where he was. His bed. Under too many blankets. The weight was nice. Soothing. Warm. Comforting. Not at all like the storm of thoughts clouding his mind. 

He was tired, and yet, his mind showed no sign of slowing down. 

He gave up trying to stop it. Instead, he let it consume him. Tears falling silently to his pillow, he fell into a restless sleep.

  
  



End file.
